Resources and Blogs

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Thought to change gears a little. Over the summer I have been collecting quarters and with this little mad money stash, I've found a few little tidbits of material culture which give us glimpses into women's lives.

As always, please click on the images to see larger versions.

So, what have we here?

Buttons Most Morally Minded
At the top of the collection shown here, are seven small brass buttons. They are studded with cut steel, faceted for a brilliant effect. This is true cut steel, for on the reverse of one of the buttons you can see the rivets, and you can also see the shanks. The quality of the workmanship is very high: consider all the detailing and those minute steel rivets, all packed into a button less than three-quarters of an inch in diameter! I think the design is an illustration of Aesop's fable called The Fox and the Crow, for a fox is up on his hind legs and appears to be reaching towards a bird on a branch.

A Fox once saw a Crow fly off with a piece of cheese in its beak and settle on a branch of a tree. "That's for me, as I am a Fox," said Master Reynard, and he walked up to the foot of the tree. "Good-day, Mistress Crow," he cried. "How well you are looking to-day: how glossy your feathers; how bright your eye. I feel sure your voice must surpass that of other birds, just as your figure does; let me hear but one song from you that I may greet you as the Queen of Birds." The Crow lifted up her head and began to caw her best, but the moment she opened her mouth the piece of cheese fell to the ground, only to be snapped up by Master Fox. "That will do," said he. "That was all I wanted. In exchange for your cheese I will give you a piece of advice for the future. Moral of Aesop's Fable: Do not trust flatterers.

From their size and style, I put them in the last quarter of the nineteenth century. They would have looked marvelous on one of the front-buttoning dresses then so fashionable. Was the button maker toying with irony, as he studded a fable about flattery with flashy facets? Or was he clueless? How about the dressmaker? Was she teasing her client or attempting to teach her? Or was mama offering a continual reminder to her daughter through her dress buttons? Or did nobody even bother to look and wonder?

Pins
This was an exciting find: hairpins still in their original brown paper wrapper. The paper is still quite strong, although I am trying not to handle it much. It is crisp and fine-grained, if that makes any sense, but there is no true gloss on the paper.

The pins are the ordinary pins used for eons and still available today. I have pulled out the wrapper gently so that you can read the labeling; like so many pins and needles, they were made in England.

Let's peek inside. I have shown the how the wrapper closes; the hairpins are grouped tightly inside, so tightly that they are almost interlocked. For those of you interested in selling hairpins at a living history event, knowing how things are folded is most helpful.

I am not quite certain and need to ask my friend Curtis Grace, from whom I purchased the pins and laces, but think these are from the attic of a former milliner and her sister. More on them in a moment: it's a tasty tale.

Laces
These laces are still tied and wrapped just as they were found. Like many of the reels of ribbons in that same milliner's attic, some of the laces are tied with cotton thread, of a thickness that reminds me of buttonhole twist.

I am not sure what type of laces these are. The leftmost are flat tapes, loosely braided. The right laces are tubular, and also braided. At their ends both sets of laces are crimped with black-painted metal.

Haven't estimated their length, but they do not seem long enough for corset laces. Boots, more likely.

The Milliner Sisters
Curtis goes to estate sales and has done so for many years. At one of these sales he visited the attic of a lady who, with her sister, had been a milliner. She was a hoarder, oh, was she a hoarder, he laughed. She had stuffed purses with all of her bills, and he found her grocery lists. Then there were the stocks of millinery supplies: rolls of silk ribbon on specially made cardboard tubes. The wide ribbons were wound on the rolls between very thin sheets of paper; I shall show you an example some other time. The narrow ribbons didn't always get this treatment. Some of the larger rolls of ribbon were tied closed with that same thread you see above, and shorter lengths ditto. There were rolls of ribbon from a quarter inch to three and more inches wide, moire, edged, picoted, or printed. Many were stained from their years in the attic, and a few were shredding, being made of weighted silk, but many are still strong.

Now for the fun part. The sisters shared their business, but split at some point, and every little item they owned, Curtis explained, split too, in exact halves. Even ribbons were divided right in half! Whether the split was amicable and the division the decision of two very precise ladies, or a tragic and angry separation, I cannot suppress a smile, these years later. Certainly the items don't retain any sadness, like some items do, preventing me from even handling them. Instead they seem to be happy, sunny things, telling their story to us afresh.

Material Culture and Social History Blogs
Are you interested in reading about material culture and social history? Then I have several more blogs for you that I follow regularly. They are all quite different, but I think you will dip into each one with joy.

Friday, August 19, 2011

Yesterday morning was iomportant. The boys sang a made-up song about a coffee house after we helped them dress for their first morning at nursery school. Then they picked up their backpacks, and off we went with grandmother to Immanuel Baptist.

All four of us were excited, but only two were nervous, and those two didn't include the boys. They had worked out their worries by clinging to Mama and Daddy the night before, a night culminating in a nice early morning thunderstorm. Parents out there, do you feel a giggle rising, suspecting who slept well, after lots of cuddling, and who didn't?

Once in their Pond, the suite of rooms they and their other boys and girls will call their own two mornings a week, Miss Donna showed them their cubbies, and they began to follow their noses, inspecting everything else and glancing at their classmates. Grandmother and I tagged along, and I watched the wet morning sunshine peep into the windows and spotlight a pretend grill.

"A gree-ill"!

"Two kepuchs [ketchup bottles]! And this is an ice ceem, Mama! It needs to go into the freezer." Noah tested the pretend freezer door. My plan for long hugs evaporated and I backed away gently. They are growing up and I won't smother them, but boy, did I want to reach down, nab whoever was closest, and squeeze him tightly, and then squash the second one equally tightly and leave his nose damp with kiss marks.

"Goodbye, Noah! Goodbye, Christopher!"

Waited.

"Goodbye, boys!"

"'Bye-'bye, Mama!" with some waves and smiles from both of them.

"Thank you so much, Miss Donna; I can see they're pretty happy, and oh, Curte will be here to pick them up...". Miss Donna smiled and I knew she knew what was going on; Curte was not the only Daddy who would arrive early upstairs and sip coffee, a floor away from his children, waiting.

Out the door we went, and a new stage of their lives began. I suppose for us, too.

﻿

By the way, yes, I did hug them lots later. When yesterday evening they rode their bicycles back to grandmother's from the ice cream shop, they were taller. I am positive of it. Sigh.

Polly, Jenni, and I demonstrated trapunto (wadded quilting), goldwork embroidery, working with plumes, and rolled hemming for symposium participants, while they nibbled on hors d'oeuvres and when they weren't touring the Ashland estate house or looking at its costume collection. Jeannie took all the pictures; thank you, Jeannie, you were so sweet to do it, especially as you were not feeling well.

It was such a delight to listen to, learn from, and talk with kindred spirits, people who have made costumes, fashion history, and textiles their life's profession or passionate hobby. They were all such kind, interesting people, so willing to share information about themselves and their work. It was a treat to meet students and their professors, docents and researchers, professional theater costumers, and conservators, to learn about fabric conservation, and oh, so much more, all set in such golden-green beauty. There is nothing like Ashland's grounds on a handsome summer evening.

Thank you, CSA and Ashland, for having us. We so enjoyed helping out and spending time with you, and we hope that the rest of the symposium is a grand success, and that your dinner cruise goes off like a happy dream.

After having a chance to think about it all more, I'll write more, but here are some of the pictures.

The only costume notes for the moment: yes, that's a new hairstyle, one closer to the real deal for 1795, and it features innumerable curls made with a combination of rollers and a good curling iron, and the addition of a massive looped chignon in back, of artificial hair. I still haven't figured out how to get curls to stay on top of my head. Have tried pinning my curls up, etc., etc. and may resort ro adding tiny rows of artificial rouleaux. Still, this style is close to some fashion plates and some prints and portraits, so I am happier with this evening effect than I was with the effect last round.

The bandeau is a strip of buckram wrapped with silk, which is then manipulated with stitches to introduce some pleats and folds, and then tied in front and pinned with a vintage brooch set with brilliants. The necklace is a double strand of potato-strung freshwater pearls, with ribbon closure.

Finally, no, the plumes did not stay right way round on my head for long. This iteration I just plunged the end of the plume behind the bandeau and into my curls. Last time, if you recall, it had been wired to a thin structured under-bandeau that was hidden behind a soft, wrapped bandeau. Round three experimentation ahead. I am busy reading in magazines of the era trying to glean bits of evidence.

Finally, aftermath :} There's that massive chignon, now let down, and all the curls coming undone after being let out of the bandeau.

The next morning: Jenni wrote about the event too; please do have a read!